No Mercy
by Uncle.Dragon
Summary: What a girl does to support her life.


I slid into the booth. Kicked back. Slid my arm on the back of the seat. And looked at the distinguished looking man sitting in front of me. He didn't say a word. He wasn't supposed to. So I asked the question myself.

'Who is the target?'

He took a long puff from his cigar and then replied, 'It's my future son-in-law, Kaon.'

* * *

With my faded jeans, sneakers, cap and the CK shirt that I favored, I blended easily into the crowd. Nobody would look twice at an ordinary girl like me. Unless they looked too deeply. Then they would see the cold facade that I had carefully built over the years, one that exuded power and command.

So I walked at a leisurely pace on the sidewalk, looking like a person who had nothing but minor worries on her mind. Yet there was a lot on my mind. I checked my cell phone for messages and ignored the two I had from Ogami. My mind went over the plan that Girochi E. Mariano had outlined. Usually I worked my own way, my own style, my own plan. But this was an exception. When a man paid you a million bucks for a job then someone even with the expanded ego like mine had to make exceptions. So for this once I was doing as I was told. I was about to walk past the departmental store but decided to make a stop. When I entered, Himeko called out a greeting to me. She stood behind the counter going over her books.

'How were the cookies, Chikane?'

'Terrific.'

'You could use more of those, skinny bones. You look like you are sick. God knows if hadn't known you since you were in diapers I would have thought you were just like those crazy girls trying to look like a bean pole.'

Himeko rambled on and on while I looked for some chocolate chip cookies and sneaked out once I purchased them. Himeko had raised me after my father had 'accidentally' killed my mother while beating her to a pulp and gone to jail. He was still doing time and I hated him with every breath I took. I pushed the glum thoughts of my downtrodden childhood behind me. And thought about the job tonight.

The plan was simple.

He wanted his Japanese son-in-law out of the picture.

I would oblige him.

That was what I did.

I was revved.

* * *

It was just like my first job. That too had been given to me by Mariano. Back then I had eliminated his competitor one who was, lets just say, a discomfort to us both. Then too he had planned everything and left only the killing to me. I had not been handsomely paid then. But now things had changed. Now I planned everything and got paid. Very handsomely.

So I got home and started preparing.

* * *

With final adjustments to the domino, I took my precious Glock with the silencer and put it in my elegant CK clutch. Off course CK is not Calvin Klein for me. I had it done my own way. Custom made genuine leather with diamonds that traced the letters 'Contract Killer'. Just my little idea of humor that seemed silly to the world in general but only some knew better.

The limo waited at the curb.

* * *

I reached the party late, deliberately. After all events like these hardly started early. But everyone knew the yearly masquerade at the Mariano's was always a hit. This year would be no different…or maybe it would be.

I was met by Mariano's right hand man, N., who took me to him. He too was wearing a domino, one that disguised him so well that I could hardly have recognized him. Without saying a word he took my hand and pulled me to the dance floor. To the people we looked like a couple enjoying the dance.

With only a slight jerk of his head he pointed out the target.

Now the ball was in my court. I danced with many, flirted with a few, ate canapés and hors-d'ouvres and kept my target in sight; never approaching near enough to be seen but never letting him out of sight either.

It was quite late when I saw the target leaving, very drunk and stumbling.

Mariano's daughter was nowhere in sight. Mariano's doing, off course.

N. helped the smashed groom-to-be in a cab and directed the cab driver. Now it was time for action. I followed the target home. He stepped out of the cab, whistling a song that I used to love when I was a kid. What a dud, I thought. He stumbled into the elevator while I took the stairs. I was quicker though, as the poor groom was having a hard time punching in the right floor.

It was just seconds after he entered his apartment that I rang. I heard the whistling stop as he fumbled with the lock.

He opened the door still wearing his costume.

I began firing.

Three silenced shots, point blank, in the chest. He slid spinelessly to the floor.

I took a step in to complete stage-two of my mission.

"Make it look like a robbery gone wrong; don't give him a chance" had been my instructions.

So I stepped in and, froze.

The gun slipped out of my suddenly numb hand as I stared at the picture of my target.

Ogami Souma, Himeko's former boyfriend.

I had followed the instructions to the core: I had not given him a chance.


End file.
